"Happy? It was a blessing for everybody!"
I was silent. Evidently the Count had not committed, could not have committed, a crime. I was obliged to yield to the weight of evidence; but then that nocturnal scene, these strange relations with the Black Plague, that horrible pantomime and the remorse in a dream which forced the couple to betray their past—what did it all mean? I became lost in thought.
Knapwurst relighted his pipe and reached me one, which I accepted. The chill which had seized me had by this time passed away. I was experiencing that delicious period of inaction which follows the fatigue caused by unusual exertions, when, sprawled out in a big armchair in the chimney-corner and enveloped in a cloud of smoke, you abandon yourself to the pleasure of repose and listen to the blending of the cricket's chant with the unearthly singing of the green log on the hearth. We sat thus for a quarter of an hour.
"The Count sometimes gets angry with his daughter," I ventured to remark. Knapwurst started, and fixing on me a suspicious, almost hostile look, replied:
"I know, I know!"
I watched him with a sidelong glance, thinking that I might learn something new, but he added ironically:
"The towers of Nideck are high, and slander flies too low to reach them!"
"Undoubtedly; but it is a fact, nevertheless, is it not?"
"Yes; but this is a mere crotchet, an effect of his malady. Once the crisis is passed, all his affection for the Countess Odile returns. It is curious, monsieur, a lover of twenty years could not be more devoted, more affectionate than he. This young woman is his one joy and pride. Only fancy, no less than a dozen times I have seen him ride off to get her a dress, or flowers, or some like trifle. He would not entrust this commission to any one, not even to his faithful Sperver. The Countess does not even dare to express a wish in his presence, lest he should commit some new extravagance. In a word, monsieur, I assure you that the Count of Nideck is the worthiest of men, the tenderest of fathers, and the best of masters. As for the poachers who ravaged his forests, the old Count Ludwig would have hanged them without mercy; but our Count tolerates them; he even makes them his gamekeepers. Take Sperver, for instance! If Count Ludwig was still alive, Sperver's bones would be clicking together like castanets, at the end of a rope, while as it is, he is the steward and man-of-affairs at the Castle."
My theories were fast falling to the ground. I rested my head between my hands and thought for a long time. Knapwurst, supposing that I was asleep, had resumed his reading. The gray dawn appeared through the tiny panes; the lamplight paled, and vague murmurs arose within the Castle. Suddenly footsteps sounded outside, some one passed before the window, the door opened abruptly, and Gideon appeared on the threshold.